Dark Saviour
Chapter 26 - Easy, Yet Complicated
….
Jeff walked silently through the hotel, his footsteps muffled by the carpet that lined the hallway. The only goal in Jeff's mind was to face Undertaker and get the answers he sought. He could feel his heart pounding quicker with each step he took and his resolve faltered slightly as his mind went over the confrontation that was to surely come.
Do I really want to know why he's been avoiding me?
Jeff paused outside Edge's hotel room door. He honestly didn't know if he wanted an explanation. He knew that he wanted answers, but at the same time, those answers scared him.
What if he found out about what's been happening to me? What had caused me to turn to drugs again? What if I lost all of his respect and he thinks I'm trash? That I'm weak for letting John use me like this or for needing him to protect me from John? What if he sees me as a worthless kid, a waste of energy, a waste of time? What if he only looked out for me because of Matt?
Jeff could feel his eyes begin to water as his fears assaulted him. He didn't believe a word that his mind was telling him, but the small voice that told him everything would be okay was currently being drowned out by the thoughts that screamed him. During his attacks, Cena had told him so many different things that contradicted his own ideas, that now it was beginning to affect every part of his being. In all honesty, Jeff knew that Taker didn't think any of those things, but the doubt Cena had planted in him held strong.
But who could blame him if he did think that I was worthless?
No. Something else was going on. Jeff knew that Undertaker still stood by him, still wanted to protect him. And if he wanted proof of that, he had only to remember the night he had shown up at the Deadman's door, crying.
Sure, he may have only felt sympathy for me. Maybe he knew he'd feel guilty if he turned me away that night. But he hasn't turned me away since then. He's still trying to help me even as I push him away.
Strengthening his resolve, Jeff stepped up to the door and knocked on it quickly before he could change his mind for the fourteenth time that night. He only had to wait a few seconds before he heard footsteps on the other side of the door, followed shortly by the short rasp of the lock as it was set free. Jeff waited for a few moments for the door to open but when it remained closed, he frowned. Unsure of what else to do, Jeff opened the door slowly, quickly taking in the entire scene before him. His eyes traveled across the room before they finally came to a stop on the man who lay stretched out on the couch, remote in hand.
"You forget something?" Taker asked, not taking his eyes off the TV.
Jeff remained silent for a moment before finding his voice. "I want answers, Mark."
If he didn't know any better, Jeff would have sworn that Undertaker had jumped at the sound of his voice. He had to force himself to remain still as Taker's gaze moved to him with shock in his eyes. At least, that's what Jeff assumed it was, but the emotion was gone so quickly that it was hard to know if it ever truly was there.
"Answers to what?" Undertaker asked looking as though he had no idea what Jeff was talking about.
"You know exactly what I want answers to," Jeff replied, moving to stand in front of Taker, obstructing his view of the TV. Jeff wanted the Deadman's full attention.
"Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about," Undertaker said, giving Jeff a blank stare.
"Bull shit!" Jeff snapped, his hands clenching into fists as his anger grew. He couldn't believe Undertaker was playing ignorant.
Taker merely continued to lie there, trying hard not to show his emotions at Jeff's outburst or stare at the dark bruise that was forming along Jeff's jaw. "Is something bothering you?"
"Of course there is! How could you not know that something is wrong? I mean you've only been ignoring and avoiding me for the past three weeks!"
"Have I?" Taker asked, seemingly confused at Jeff's outburst.
"Yes, you have," Jeff snapped, letting his anger and frustration show. "Don't you dare play ignorant with me!"
Undertaker shifted into a sitting position, his arms crossed in front of him. He could feel his resolve breaking as he stared into Jeff's tear filled eyes. He hated the pain he was causing the smaller man. "I'm not playing ignorant," Taker replied, trying desperately not to let his voice break.
"Bull!" Jeff said, glaring at the Deadman. He was slightly satisfied when he saw Taker squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. Undertaker looked away from the younger man in defeat, causing Jeff to lose a little bit of his anger. "Why won't you just tell me that you don't like me any more?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "That you hate me . . ."
Taker's head snapped up, shock evident on his face. "Why would I hate you?"
Jeff shrugged. "Because you think that I'm weak. That I'm pathetic."
"No, no, no," Taker said, quickly getting up to stand beside Jeff, fighting back the urge to touch him. "I could never think anything like that about you. I could never hate you."
"Then why have you been ignoring me?" Jeff asked, a tear finally breaking through his defenses to fall silently down his cheek.
Taker bit his lip hard, forcing himself to keep his own defenses up and his hands down at his side. He couldn't let Jeff see how much this was affecting him. "I . . . I can't tell you that."
"Why not?" Jeff asked.
"The exact same reason you won't tell me what's been going on with you," Taker replied.
Jeff looked up at Undertaker, unsure of what to say to that. "Why would you bring that up?" he asked. "That has nothing to do with this."
"It has everything to do with it," Taker said, wincing slightly at the harshness of his voice as his emotions finally started to push through his once strong barriers.
"If it truly had something to do with that then you would have talked to me about it," Jeff answered, his own anger growing, drowning out the hurt he felt.
"Would I?" Taker snapped before he could stop himself.
"If you truly cared, yes, you would," Jeff retorted.
"Oh really?" Undertaker said, rolling his as he tried desperately to ride the frustration he felt at Jeff's words before he could betray himself.
"Yes, you would have."
"And what? Hear you tell me to back off again? That you're handling it?"
Jeff paused as he realized that he probably would have said just that. "I . . ."
"Give me a break, Jeff," Taker snapped bitterly. "We both know that you wouldn't tell me anything. You never tell me what's going on."
"Mark, I . . . I'm sorry."
"Do you really want me to help you? Do you really want anyone's help?" Taker asked, silently praying that Jeff would finally let him in.
"I don't . . ."
"Then how many times am I going to have to find you beaten to a bloody pulp in my hotel room before you tell me what's wrong? How many times do you have to be raped before you talk to me?"
"I haven't been raped," Jeff sputtered, his face going pale.
"That's not what I've heard."
"What did John tell you?"
"He didn't tell me anything. The doctor that looked after you when I found you beaten in our hotel room did."
"He doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Stop lying to me!" Taker yelled. "You're only defending that bastard every time you do!"
"Back off, Mark!"
Undertaker threw his hands up in the air. "And there it is. Those three magical words have been spoken."
"What do you mean?"
"You're telling me to back off again, Jeff. You're telling me to leave you alone. Well, I'm finally taking your advice and backing off," Taker answered. "I'm leaving you alone."
"But . . ."
"I'm taking myself out of the picture because I know that I won't be able to 'back off' much longer," Undertaker said truthfully. I can't see you broken again.
"Fine," Jeff yelled, refusing to hide his anger or hurt. "You're free to leave. I never meant to make you feel like you had to stay with me."
"You never made me feel like that," Undertaker replied slowly, closing his eyes. "But I just can't stand here watching you being constantly attacked and do nothing . . ."
"Then I shall make it easy for you and let you stand back. I won't bother you any more," Jeff said, quickly turning on his heel and storming at the door.
Taker stood where he was, rooted to the spot on the floor. He could feel his throat tightening up as his mouth ran dry. Shaking his head, he forced himself to move. Undertaker walked slowly into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When he looked up into the mirror, he could see the faint trace of a tear on his cheek. Bracing his arms against the sink, Undertaker hung his head, his anger finally giving way to the grief that assaulted him.
I shouldn't have been so harsh, he thought as he looked up at his reflection and saw more tears falling from his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jeff, but I had to do it. It'll be easier on you this way."
Taker shook his head again before sitting on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands, his emotions spilling over and shredding every last piece of him.
What am I saying? It's not going to be easier on you. It'll only maybe, possibly, be easier on me . . .
….
"I could kill that bastard!" Matt yelled as he paced his hotel room, which he had been doing since Jeff came to him a few minutes ago.
"Matt, he has every right to be angry with me," Jeff said, defending the Deadman's actions as he wiped away the last tear that rolled down his cheek.
Matt turned to face his brother, trying to calm himself down before he yelled at the man before him. "But he had no right to hit you," he said as he stared at a spot along Jeff's jaw, which was darkening into an ugly shade of purple.
Jeff flinched as he brushed at the tender spot lightly. "He didn't hit me."
"Don't defend the guy, Jeff. He isn't worth it."
There you're wrong. He is, Jeff thought as he remembered Taker uttering the same words Matt did earlier. Unlike his brother, however, Undertaker had been right when he said it. "He didn't do it, Matt. Honestly."
Matt looked at Jeff, sympathy in his eyes as he sat down next to him. "I know you like the guy, Jeff. Maybe even love them, but that is no reason to let him get away with hurting you."
"Matt, listen to me . . ."
"I am listening."
"No, actually listen to me. Mark didn't hit me," Jeff said, feeling his annoyance with his brother's attitude grow. "He would never hit me."
"Then who did?" Matt asked.
"I can't tell you," Jeff replied slowly as he looked away from his brother.
"Not this again, Jeff," Matt sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"What?"
"You're hiding something from me again," Matt answered, shaking his head.
"What of it?" Jeff asked, hoping that Matt didn't notice his nervousness.
Matt shook his head again. "Is that why he hit you?"
"Who?"
"Mark," Matt answered. "Did he hit you because you were hiding something from him?"
"For the last time, Mark didn't hit me!" Jeff yelled. "John did."
"John? As in, Cena?" Matt asked his brow furrowed in confusion.
"No," Jeff replied quickly.
"Layfield?"
Jeff didn't reply. He merely lowered his gaze, avoiding his brother's curious stare. He hated lying to his brother. "Yeah," he answered finally, deciding to go with the half-truth. "We had a little scuffle earlier."
"About what?"
Jeff shook his head. "That's between John and me."
"Jeff," Matt said, at the same time letting his head fall into his hands.
"Please don't ask me to explain," Jeff pleaded. "It's really stupid and rather embarrassing."
Sighing, Matt nodded his head. "Fine."
"Thanks Matt," Jeff said, moving over to hug his brother. After a moment, he got up and headed to the door.
"Where are you going?" Matt asked.
"I'm going to head to my room, maybe start packing," Jeff answered with a shrug. "Might as well head home. Mark obviously doesn't want me around if he's rooming with Adam now. So, I've really got no reason to stay."
"If you wanted to hang around for a while, you could room with me again," Matt suggested.
"Thanks. I'll think about it," Jeff said as he headed out the door.
While you think about it, I'm going to go visit Mark, Matt thought as he waited a few moments, giving Jeff ample time to get to his room, before he walked out the door. He immediately turned right and walked to the middle of the hallway before stopping at Edge's room. With a sigh, Matt knocked on the door.
"It's open."
Matt opened the door and walked into the room, his gaze instantly drawn to the man standing in front of the large window, his back to the door. "Can I talk to you, Mark?"
Taker seemed to hesitate a moment before he turned slowly to face Matt, brushing back his damp hair in the process. "Oh joy. Now I get to talk to the older Hardy."
"You don't sound too happy about that?" Matt replied, a scowl appearing on his face as he took in Taker's appearance. Has the Deadman been crying?
Undertaker shrugged as he folded his arms across his chest. "Guess it depends on what you want to talk about."
"Jeff," Matt stated simply.
"Why do you want to talk about him?"
"What did you say to him?"
"I didn't say anything," Taker answered as he turned his back on Matt and walked into a bedroom that he seemed to be currently occupying. He turned his attention to the bed as he went back to shoving things into his duffel bag.
"You going somewhere?" Matt asked as he leaned against the doorframe.
"Um . . . yeah. I do have a pay-per view event to go to."
Matt didn't respond immediately. After a few minutes, he shook his head and sighed, "You really hurt him today."
"I did?" Undertaker asked, not bothering to ask who Matt was talking about.
"Yes, you did."
Undertaker hands stilled as a fresh wave of grief washed over him. "I didn't mean to hurt him," he whispered, making it difficult for Matt to hear what he said.
"Whether you meant to or not, you did, Mark. You hurt him badly," Matt said, as he tried to regain the Deadman's attention.
"I . . ."
"I've never seen Jeff so hurt, Mark. Not even when we were younger, have I ever see him cry that much. I didn't think he could, but whatever you did to him," Matt shook his head, his own eyes getting misting as he thought about it and realized the truth. "Damn it, Mark! You broke him!"
That caught Undertaker's attention. He turned around quickly, looking Matt straight in the eye. "What do you mean I 'broke' him?"
"You broke him. As in, he's a shattered shell of his former self," Matt answered, wiping away angrily at the tears that fell.
"I . . . I was trying to," Taker stammered.
"You were what, Mark?" Matt yelled. "You were what?"
"I was trying to make things easier on him," Taker whispered. "I was hoping to prevent him from being hurt again."
"How can this be easier on him? He's crying as though he lost the one thing that was keeping him going," Matt snapped, his bitterness getting the better of him. "Hell of a way to keep him from getting hurt."
"I'm no better then he is," Undertaker muttered, turning away from the older Hardy once more.
"No better then who?"
"Cena," Taker replied, closing his eyes against the bitter anguish he felt as that fact dawned on him.
"What did Cena do, Mark?"
Undertaker shook his head. "I can't tell you that."
"And why not?"
"Because your brother asked me not to tell you or anyone else for that matter," Taker answered. "So, you might as well ask your brother for the details."
"You know he won't tell me, Mark."
"Join the club."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, isn't it obvious? He doesn't tell me shit either," Taker said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
"He doesn't?" Matt asked, looking at the Deadman with a curious expression on his face.
"No, he doesn't," Taker replied. "I get to figure things out on my own like when I find him bloody and bruised in our hotel room."
"He was what?" Matt yelled in disbelief.
Taker winced slight as he realized his mistake. "That's one of the things he didn't want me to tell you," he looked up at Matt then, his eyes expressing the sadness he felt. "One day, after a taping, a came back to our hotel room to find your brother beaten, bloody, bruised and . . ." he paused.
"And what?"
Taker shook his head. "That I won't tell you."
"Why not?" Matt snapped, his frustration breaking through his sadness.
"Because, that is something that has to come from Jeff, not me," Undertaker replied.
"And why not you?"
Taker shook his head, as if to clear it from some horrible image before standing up and throwing the remainder of his belongings into his bag. "Because I have to go," he said, quickly closing the bag before grabbing it and heading to the door.
"Don't turn your back on me, Deadman!" Matt yelled. "I'm not through with you yet."
Taker opened the door before glancing over his shoulder. "Well, I've got nothing more to say to you. Say hi to Jeff when you see him again."
"Why don't you say hi to him yourself, Mark?" Matt called after him.
Taker smirked at the thought as he closed the door behind him. I'm sure I'm the last guy he wants to see at the moment, even if I went to him on my knees begging for forgiveness. I'm as bad as John, if not worse. No, the best thing for me to do is go on as planned and to leave Jeff alone. Even if I hurt him today, it will be better in the long run. It has to be. Hell, it will be. Without me, he will finally be left alone.